in less than a finger snap, yet it was enough to clear Sarah's conscience of her lie. Sarah knew Mrs. Dealford thought her stupid, from the way she'd very slowly repeated her instructions two or three times. Let her go on thinking so, if it would please Harvey.
"I'll be back in a moment,” Sarah said. “There's something I want to ask Mother. Do try and find that roast beef, Harvey. Perhaps Miss Dealford can help you."
"So this is your kitchen,” Emma said. “Isn't it beautiful!"
When Sarah returned, the sliced beef stood on the scrubbed wooden table, with some rolls, butter and a small dish of cold mashed turnips. Harvey and Miss Dealford were not in sight. Muffled noises came from within the pantry. Harvey exclaimed, “Look at that! Have you ever seen anything so enormous?"
"I've never seen anything like it before. Though I'm not certain it's right to hang it from the ceiling. And what do you suppose caused it to be that odd color?"
"Miss Dealford, I believe, yes, I do believe it's a ham. Smoked, I think."
"Amazing."
After a moment of silence, Harvey exclaimed, “Bottled peaches! So that's how we manage to eat them in winter."
"Remarkable! I never knew. Do you think I could learn how to do that?"
That was all Sarah heard. Carrying up Lord Reyne's supplementary meal, she passed Harmonia in the hall, going the opposite direction with a covered tray. “You're late with that; it's after eight o'clock,” Harmonia said. She paused and frowned over the food. “Who's that for?"
"Lord Reyne."
"A lot of indigestible food isn't going to do him any good. Why, Harlow said he could hardly eat what I brought him, for fear it would lie too heavily on his stomach."
"It's what Lord Reyne asked for."
"Oh, men never know what is good for them."
"How is Mr. Atwood?” Sarah asked, though her tray was growing heavy.
"Very low. Sitting up tires him so much. And he has a perfectly horrendous headache. I'm going back to sit with him as he sleeps. In case of nightmares."
"Won't you be tired?” Sarah asked. In answer, a mistiness came into Harmonia's eyes. She set off at a great rate down the hall, no doubt so that she might not be too long away from her ailing idol's bedside.
Perhaps, Sarah thought, she oughtn't let Lord Reyne eat the roast beef. And the half-bottle of claret she'd added at the last moment might push him into an apoplexy. Sarah hesitated. On the one hand, she hated to disappoint him, but on the other, what if the meal made him worse than he was? Fortunately for Lord Reyne, at that moment, Fred Footman looked out and said, “Please, Miss East, hurry along with that! He'll have my head off in a minute."
Alaric sat up in an armchair, tucked about with pillows and blankets. He wore a fine quilted dressing gown over his nightshirt, the open collar filled in with a silken handkerchief. The silver-blue gleam of the banyan had been chosen by a sister to play up his dark good looks, but he knew that it also brought out the color of his spots. However, it was all he had with him.
Sarah thought he looked impossibly handsome. She quivered where she stood, setting the crystal glass to ring against the bottle. “Claret?” Alaric exclaimed. “Miss East, my dear Sarah, more than half my worldly goods are yours. Bring it here."
Though she yearned to do his bidding, Sarah still hesitated. “I don't know if you should ... Mr. Atwood says ..."
"Atwood? Why should he concern himself with my habits? Besides, Fred tells me he's yet more ill than I. If he thinks that good food can harm me, he must be delirious. Please, Sarah, I'm dying of hunger."
She enjoyed watching him eat. He praised the wine, but when she offered to find him some more, he refused with a laugh. “You try to drown me and would now drown my wits? No, Sarah, this is an admirable sufficiency. I shall have enough to do to keep my eyelids propped up. Don't go."
"You're tired."
"Yes, devilishly, but I don't want to sleep yet. Do you play cards?"
"No,
"I'll be back in a moment,” Sarah said. “There's something I want to ask Mother. Do try and find that roast beef, Harvey. Perhaps Miss Dealford can help you."
"So this is your kitchen,” Emma said. “Isn't it beautiful!"
When Sarah returned, the sliced beef stood on the scrubbed wooden table, with some rolls, butter and a small dish of cold mashed turnips. Harvey and Miss Dealford were not in sight. Muffled noises came from within the pantry. Harvey exclaimed, “Look at that! Have you ever seen anything so enormous?"
"I've never seen anything like it before. Though I'm not certain it's right to hang it from the ceiling. And what do you suppose caused it to be that odd color?"
"Miss Dealford, I believe, yes, I do believe it's a ham. Smoked, I think."
"Amazing."
After a moment of silence, Harvey exclaimed, “Bottled peaches! So that's how we manage to eat them in winter."
"Remarkable! I never knew. Do you think I could learn how to do that?"
That was all Sarah heard. Carrying up Lord Reyne's supplementary meal, she passed Harmonia in the hall, going the opposite direction with a covered tray. “You're late with that; it's after eight o'clock,” Harmonia said. She paused and frowned over the food. “Who's that for?"
"Lord Reyne."
"A lot of indigestible food isn't going to do him any good. Why, Harlow said he could hardly eat what I brought him, for fear it would lie too heavily on his stomach."
"It's what Lord Reyne asked for."
"Oh, men never know what is good for them."
"How is Mr. Atwood?” Sarah asked, though her tray was growing heavy.
"Very low. Sitting up tires him so much. And he has a perfectly horrendous headache. I'm going back to sit with him as he sleeps. In case of nightmares."
"Won't you be tired?” Sarah asked. In answer, a mistiness came into Harmonia's eyes. She set off at a great rate down the hall, no doubt so that she might not be too long away from her ailing idol's bedside.
Perhaps, Sarah thought, she oughtn't let Lord Reyne eat the roast beef. And the half-bottle of claret she'd added at the last moment might push him into an apoplexy. Sarah hesitated. On the one hand, she hated to disappoint him, but on the other, what if the meal made him worse than he was? Fortunately for Lord Reyne, at that moment, Fred Footman looked out and said, “Please, Miss East, hurry along with that! He'll have my head off in a minute."
Alaric sat up in an armchair, tucked about with pillows and blankets. He wore a fine quilted dressing gown over his nightshirt, the open collar filled in with a silken handkerchief. The silver-blue gleam of the banyan had been chosen by a sister to play up his dark good looks, but he knew that it also brought out the color of his spots. However, it was all he had with him.
Sarah thought he looked impossibly handsome. She quivered where she stood, setting the crystal glass to ring against the bottle. “Claret?” Alaric exclaimed. “Miss East, my dear Sarah, more than half my worldly goods are yours. Bring it here."
Though she yearned to do his bidding, Sarah still hesitated. “I don't know if you should ... Mr. Atwood says ..."
"Atwood? Why should he concern himself with my habits? Besides, Fred tells me he's yet more ill than I. If he thinks that good food can harm me, he must be delirious. Please, Sarah, I'm dying of hunger."
She enjoyed watching him eat. He praised the wine, but when she offered to find him some more, he refused with a laugh. “You try to drown me and would now drown my wits? No, Sarah, this is an admirable sufficiency. I shall have enough to do to keep my eyelids propped up. Don't go."
"You're tired."
"Yes, devilishly, but I don't want to sleep yet. Do you play cards?"
"No,
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